Fresh screams rippled through the sleeping village, drawing the weary band to action. Ionascu cackled recklessly from the corner while the rest strapped on weapons and prepared for battle. Dorl resisted the urge to backhand him and followed Nothol out into the hallway. The bow in his hands felt good, like it belonged. He only hoped he didn’t need to use it.
“Where?” Boen asked. The easygoing attitudes he adopted for travelling were gone, replaced by decades of hardened combat experience.
Rekka gestured east. “The screams came from the far end of the village. They move this way.”
Bahr drew his sword. “Dorl, you and Rekka get up on the roof and cover high.”
“You think these are our spies?” Nothol asked.
The Sea Wolf glanced over to the oddly complacent Anienam. “Ask him.”
“More than likely,” the wizard answered slowly. “But anything is possible.”
Another scream echoed. This one closer.
“Enough talk. Blood is being shed.” Boen shouldered his way past the others and headed towards the door. Blood pumping, the Vengeance Knight was eager to apply his steel in battle.
The rest broke into groups, Anienam following Rekka and Dorl to the rooftop. Bahr stopped and turned suddenly, fixing Skuld with a wary glance. “Not you, lad. I need you to stay and keep an eye on Ionascu. He may be broken but I don’t trust him.”
“But I want to fight! I can help,” Skuld protested furiously.
Bahr shook his head. “Not this time. My word is final.”
The door swung shut behind him, leaving the dejected Skuld with murderous thoughts.
A soft hand rested on his shoulder. “Don’t fret, Skuld. You’re not the only one who’s not necessary in battle.”
His demeanor softened, slightly. “You’re a princess. They are protecting you.”
“Are they?” She glared back at him. “I call it smothering. How many more need to die because of me? Yet here I stand, helpless as a newborn babe. Life is not kind, nor does it care for our desires. We must all find a way to get along with it or be run over and lost to the cold haunts of the past. The others will return soon. Very little can stand up to my uncle and the Gaimosian.”
Skuld took little comfort in her words. His eyes never left the scratched and stained wooden door daring him to exit.
Storm clouds blocked the moon, enshrouding the village in tumultuous darkness. The air smelled of snow and bore a damp flavor. Doors and windows being shuttered rang out from dozens of homes. Fires were lit in the vain attempts of keeping whatever evil stalked Fedro away. Bahr wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Nothing but cold steel was going to save them. He’d never understood the cattle mentality of humanity. Most would rather button up and hide rather than confront their fears. The weak almost always perished because of that. A handful of Men and Women came forward to combat the darkness and keep the monsters at bay. While he never considered himself a hero, Bahr had no qualms about defending those who were incapable of doing so for themselves.
Nothol snatched a torch from the nearest streetlight and pushed forward. Visibility was so reduced they needed the light in order to see. Boen made every attempt to stay ahead of the glare, not wanting the flames to affect his night vision. He contemplated telling the sell sword to get rid of it but knew the light might come in handy if they were indeed fighting the winged creatures they’d spotted coming down from the mountains.
A loud crash came from the alley just ahead and the group began to run. Boen reached the gap between homes first. Throwing caution to the wolves, he charged into the alley with sword poised in a high guard. A large, dark shape burst from the shadows and took flight the moment Boen arrived. Something large fell to the ground and rolled to a stop a few feet away. He peered down already knowing it was a freshly killed villager. Whatever plague had descended on Fedro did so to feed.
“They’re airborne!” he growled, stepping over the corpse.
Bahr hardly glanced at the body as Nothol’s torchlight fell. Warm blood streaked the broken forearm, hand curled up in mock defiance. “We need to find a way to push it towards Dorl.”
“We don’t have any weapons capable of dropping one of them,” Nothol protested. “They can escape without effort.”
The first rain drops spattered Boen’s upturned face. “No. They aren’t going to run. We fight them here, now.”
The Giant would be mighty useful right about now. Bahr grimaced and ordered them back into the main avenue. All eyes focused on the skies, desperately seeking their enemy. Desperately and futilely. Whatever hunted them remained carefully hidden in the low clouds. Frustration threatened to take hold. Bahr needed to find a way to lure their stalkers down close enough to kill.
“Do you see anything?” he asked if for nothing else than to break the oppressive silence.
Boen grumbled under his breath. “The clouds are too thick. We will not see them unless they want to be seen.”
“I’m open to ideas,” Bahr countered. What’s the point of having a blasted wizard if he can’t do any magic? Now I know why Mages are all but extinct. Damned fools worried more about the stars than trying to help anyone.
Nothol threw the torch down and stamped the flames out.
“What are you doing?” Bahr asked.
“Bait. We need to draw them in. Otherwise this is just a waste of time,” the sell sword replied nervously.
“Don’t end up like this poor guy,” Bahr said and gestured towards the body.
Nothol spit. “Keep them off me so I don’t need to worry about it.”
He darted out into the middle of the street and held his arms open wide. “Here I am! Come and kill me, cowards!”
Nothol Coll ran, back towards the tavern where, hopefully, Dorl and Rekka sat ready. Otherwise… He looped around the village once before coming back to Bahr and Boen. Each clung to the shadows on opposite sides of the road, watching, waiting. Nothol looked to Bahr as they passed, but the Sea Wolf only shook his head. Nothing. Winded, Nothol continued to run. He began shouting obscenities, hoping to lure the enemy in through a sense of vanity. Unused to being in this sort of situation, he was quickly running out of ideas and options. Just when he was about to give up and head back, the night came alive and attacked.
Winds rushed past. Nothol felt something large and incredibly hard slam into his side, knocking him to the ground with a grunt. Claws raked at his exposed face and hands. Feathers shed down upon him as he struggled to get off his back before he got killed. A pungent odor assaulted him, causing him to gag and retch.
“Finish him, Sister!” a foul voice screeched from the rooftops.
A rock whistled through the night before slamming into the Harpy’s head. Her screech made Nothol’s ears bleed. Boen rushed in a moment later, tackling the Harpy in a flurry of feathers and crunching bones. He punched three quick times to the chest and face before the Harpy managed to dig out from under his massive frame and burst into the sky. Feathers and blood drifted down.
“What in the Hells was that?” Nothol asked as he rolled back to his feet.
Boen brushed a feather from his shoulder. “I don’t know. Nothing I’ve ever seen before. We should be cautious. I wounded it but there are others.”
“Nice shot,” Bahr said and pulled Boen up. He knelt and dabbed a fingertip in the small drops of blood. “We’ve got a trail. I heard the bones snap from the other side of the street. I doubt it’s going to fly away quickly, if at all.”
“What’s our next move?” Nothol asked.
“We kill it,” Boen said and stalked after the Harpy. The thrill of the kill aroused him. It was time for the Gaimosian to do what he was created for.
Nothol and Bahr hurried to catch up.
“Can’t you do anything to help?” Dorl asked angrily. He was getting fed up with having a do-nothing wizard along.
Anienam stifled a yawn. “I’ve already told you my talents don’t work like that. Magic isn’t a children’s game I can turn
on and off at will. There are preparations required and we don’t have time for any of them. I don’t know why I’m trying to explain this to you. Yours is not an educated mind, my friend, and I will only confuse myself trying to enlighten you!”
Dorl flushed crimson with anger. “Mind your tongue, old man, or I might just forget you saved our asses back in Chadra.”
“Quiet, both of you,” Rekka scolded suddenly. Her focus never left the area where she’d seen Bahr and the others disappear.
Soon after, the sounds of battle drifted to them. Rekka set an arrow to string and gave her bow a few quick test pulls to loosen it. She inhaled small breaths through her nose and exhaled almost imperceptibly through her mouth. Her muscles relaxed. Her mind cleared as she subconsciously ran through old training drills instilled in her since childhood. She became the weapon.
Dorl peered over the edge, struggling to see what Rekka did. He found only darkness. “What is it?”
She waved him off, merely gesturing with a curt nod. Dorl followed her gaze and was rewarded with seeing his best friend struggling with a winged creature. He briefly considered taking a shot but the distance was too great and he feared hitting Nothol. Instead he cursed and punched the rooftop.
“Patience, Dorl. They are bringing the creature to us.”
He didn’t understand how Rekka could know that but he wasn’t in an arguing mood. His inability to help Nothol twisted him with guilt. They’d been through countless bad situations and always had each other’s backs. Sitting up here on the top of the tavern effectively removed him from being able to help. Nothol was on his own. Only he wasn’t. He had Bahr and Boen. Between the two of them he ought to be fine.
“We need to help them,” he insisted, more from the thought of being helpless than anything else.
She ignored him. Rekka’s eyes never left the engagement. Boen all but crushed the creature to death as he tackled it off of Nothol but it still managed to take flight. Two others leapt from a dark light post and helped their wounded comrade escape the Gaimosian. From their shocked attempt at fleeing they hadn’t been expecting to get involved with such a powerful group of warriors. Predators seldom did. These three had come to feed on the innocent and unsuspecting; stealing babies from their cribs and the old from their death beds.
They also forgot the three warriors waiting on the roof. Rekka slowly drew her bow and aimed. Her breathing slowed to a bare hint. Her eyes locked on the already wounded creature. She exhaled and counted to three. Rekka fired. Feathers tickled her cheek as she released. The arrow sliced through the air and plunged deep in the creature’s chest. It, she, screamed in rage and agony and would have fallen to the ground if not for the others. Rekka mechanically reached back for a second bolt and took aim as Dorl fired his first shot.
Aware of the new danger, the three Harpies pulled up and away. Dorl’s bolt crashed harmlessly into the cobblestones below. The largest of the three glared down with baleful eyes, marking their faces. A day would come when revenge demanded justice. Slowly the Harpies pulled away and were lost to the clouds.
“Save your bolts. They are already out of range,” Rekka cautioned upon noticing Dorl setting another arrow to string. “We have wounded them and that is enough.”
Dorl reluctantly did as he was told. “They’ll be back. Nothing is ever this easy.”
Rekka cocked her head, regarding him with a quizzical look he couldn’t read. They were all at the point of exhaustion. Tensions ran high and no one seemed in the mood for the usual banter that accompanied their journey. Only now did Dorl realize his muscles trembled slightly. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on a soft bed and wake days later.
He looked to Anienam and asked, “Don’t you have anything to add?”
The wizard sighed. “No. Not at this time. Bahr and the others are coming. We should go back down.”
Giving a final look to the cloudy skies, Dorl let out a deep sigh and followed the others inside. He’d had enough excitement for the night.
NINE
Debates
Fedro laid leagues behind them yet eyes perpetually turned up to the skies, fearful of another attack. Bahr tried to calm their nerves by claiming, rightfully so, that the Harpies had only attacked after he and the others infringed upon their hunting raid. A week had passed since that night and they hadn’t seen so much as a sign of their hunters. That did nothing to keep them from staring up.
Anienam took a few days before he was able to figure out the creatures were Harpies. A taste of their blood and a few feathers mixed with random chemicals told him everything he needed to know. The temptation to throw his use of magic back at Dorl nearly won through but he maintained enough composure to let it pass. Besides, he’d had his share of being wrong already. Their fragile group didn’t need any more distractions to their cohesion.
“Harpies?” Skuld asked. The wonder in his voice was almost innocent, refreshing.
Anienam waved generally. “An ancient race but one quickly dying out. Humanity has encroached upon their roosts. Much of the world has changed since their kind filled the skies. We are a blessing and a bane to all that came before us.”
Bahr grunted. “Seems to me the bane comes from those flying monsters.”
“They kill because they have no choice.”
Boen broke out in deep, bellowing laughter. “You don’t find deer trying to kill us for taking their lands, old man! Those bastards are killers, no doubt about it. They are hunting us and we still don’t know for whom. I can’t wait to wrap my fingers around one of their necks.”
“Life requires more than mindless violence, Gaimosian,” Anienam snapped back. “There comes a time when thinking is more important than skill with a sword.”
Boen waved him off. “Say what you will but keep your propaganda for youth like Skuld here. I’ve seen enough of Malweir to know where true strength lies.”
“Pay him no mind, Skuld. His kind has lost much and their plight formed the paths of their lives. There is no changing a man like that,” Anienam told the boy. He watched Skuld, constantly evaluating the former street urchin to see if he had the potential to take his place as the last in the line of Mages and wizards. His nightmares revolved around the order finally dying. Anienam wasn’t a strong man, nor were his convictions solid enough to change the world, and the thought of Malweir being unguarded against those dangerous powers lurking in the dark propelled him on. Besides, his father would have wanted it.
The wagon rumbled on, ever drawing nearer to the Kergland Spine and the next stage of their journey. He hadn’t been through Dwarf lands in decades and proved little help to the planning process. Not even Boen had experience with the Dwarves. They were a secretive race, mistrusting and unwilling to interact with the other races unless necessary. Once, long ago when the order of Mages first came to power, the Dwarves were an important part of Malweir politics. They held offices across the lands and ran banks and other institutions. The war for the crystal of Tol Shere forced them back in seclusion and concreted their suspicions towards the other races.
“This is all so new to me,” Groge commented after sensing Anienam’s deep sorrow. “I know only the granite mountaintops and the crisp bite of winter winds. This, this is almost alien to my kind. Wondrous and tempting.”
“There is much the lowlands offer that cannot be found lost in the mountains. A shame you didn’t come down in the summer when the flowers bloom and the birds roam free,” Anienam said and smiled. “The abundance of life refreshes the soul.”
The Giant nodded without understanding the concepts Anienam presented. “The very air is changed. I can smell no forge, no folded steel. Much of the oppression in the atmosphere is not here. I can breathe freely.”
“Wait until you witness the seduction of the seas for the first time, my friend,” Bahr added, riding up alongside. “Once she takes your hand she will steal your heart.”
“I have read of the sea,” Groge said, smiling. “Is it true the water goes on forev
er?”
“Damned near. I’ve sailed much of the northern seas and there were times when I was certain all land had faded away. It can make a Man feel very small.”
“What about a Giant?”
Bahr laughed. “Even a Giant. The majesty of the sea is without compare. Not even your mighty forges hold sway with the raw power of the water.”
“The elders would never allow us to leave Venheim just for the sake of witnessing something they deem trivial,” Groge said sadly. “Will we have the opportunity to go there on this journey?”
“I don’t know, but there is always a chance,” Bahr replied.
“Time and Fate often have little to do with one another,” the wizard added. “Anything is possible. I haven’t been able to foresee much since we left Delranan.”
“What of the war consuming your homelands?” Groge asked after a few moments. “We have had no part in wars for centuries.”
Anienam snapped the reins and pushed the horses slightly harder, leaving Bahr to deal with talk of wars and killing. He had no stomach for either. Soon even the sound of their banter drifted to mumblings. So much of his life had been dedicated to helping others; to altering the course of things for the better of all Malweir. He selflessly abandoned any chance at having a family, an heir, any hope of a normal life, for the greater good. There were times he wasn’t sure he could continue, but the next dawn always found him putting one foot in front of the other. Anienam was tried and tested, but remained constant.
The threat of the dark gods returning hounded his conscience. How many times in Malweir’s long history had they tried to return? To reclaim what once belonged to them and bring the world to ruin? He knew of at least five. Much was necessary if the dark gods had a chance of being released into the world. A great confluence of powers needed to happen first. He felt such power in the air. It rode the currents and charged the atmosphere. Anienam could taste the powers of the dark gods as they strained against the immaterial fabric of their prison. They wanted back as much he needed to find a way to keep them out.
A Whisper After Midnight Page 7
